


Dream Castles

by Quente



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Hyoutei, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-07
Updated: 2014-02-07
Packaged: 2018-01-11 12:19:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1172992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quente/pseuds/Quente
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jirou dreams. And then he doesn't. Fic written for Jirou's birthday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dream Castles

Jirou stretched, each one of his muscles easing out as he snuggled into his nest of a bed. He pushed aside a pillow or two, gripped his favorite blanket to his chest, and did a half-roll onto his stomach. His muscles were pleasantly sore -- he'd worked out hard today. 

Jirou had arrived late to practice (because Gakuto had forgotten to wake him up after math class), and plodded through a few penalty laps before Atobe took mercy on him and allowed him to help with first-year racket swings. 

But after that, Jirou had been given the pleasure of playing Atobe himself in a singles match, which had fired him up completely. It was almost as much fun as playing Marui! Or so Jirou imagined. He hadn't played Marui yet, and didn't really know.

But now Jirou was clean from the shower and well-fed (Gakuto made sure he stayed awake during dinner), and it was time for him to engage in his favorite hobby.

First came the floating. Jirou imagined that this was how Gakuto felt when he bounced. It wasn't unlike bouncing. He started in his body but swiftly sprang up out of it. It wasn't anything weird like he could see his body from above, nothing like that, but Jirou always felt a strange sense of relief that he could leave the heavy thing behind. 

And then, light as a mote, his synapses began to fire and his unconscious began to play...

Tonight was dinosaurs. Walking two by two across a sandy beach, with pastel skin and strange, overlarge eyelashes. What? Oh -- his little cousin's American dinosaur video. Jirou shuddered, hearing strains of the familiar music, and then realized that he was clinging to a tree branch. 

What was he? He looked down. Monkey. That was an odd one, for sure. Jirou experimented, swinging around the tree with his long, furry arms. It felt weird. He had to be careful, or he'd fall, and surely the dinosaurs would eat him. In fact, the smaller, pinker dinosaur looked kind of hungry...

Hm. Not such a good dream. Something nicer? Jirou concentrated hard, and the smaller dinosaur took off his mascot head and grinned at him.

"Hey Jirou. Coming to the costume party?" It was Gakuto, waddling about in that outfit. The larger dinosaur removed his head too -- Yuushi, hair mashed down around his head. That's right, wearing a mascot outfit would definitely give you hat-hair. 

"Yeah, come join us. I'll tell you a secret -- there will be lots of sex." Yuushi said in an annoyingly superior tone.

"Sex is good. But you two aren't wearing lingerie. And why am I in a monkey costume?" Jirou looked down and frowned. He couldn't have sex in a monkey outfit. But then, neither could those two in their dinosaur costumes. "How will we do it?" 

Gakuto shrugged. "I guess we take them off."

Hmmm. The thought of Gakuto shucking down to naked, like in the locker room, made Jirou all warm inside. 

Monkey-Jirou dropped from his branch to lope after the dinosaurs. Yuushi and Gakuto turned and walked straight into the sea. On the fifth or sixth step, Jirou realized that they were walking over the waves.

It was pleasant, walking on the sea, if a little dizzying. It was also hard to keep his balance. "Can I change my costume?" Jirou begged.

"Anything you desire on your birthday." Atobe appeared. He was suitably elegant in a pale blue dress and headband.

Strange... "You aren't in an animal costume," Jirou said, "not that I'm complaining." Hm, Jirou desperately needed something better suited to seduction. Perhaps...

"Use this!" Shishido shouted, riding by in a clunky-looking suit of armor, mounted on a flying seahorse. He hurled something at Jirou, which Jirou caught. Oh dear, it was a pair of tights, a poofy-sleeved doublet, and calf-hugging boots. No, no way. "This is for girls!" Jirou wailed.

Atobe frowned prettily, and Jirou bit his lip. "Fine," Jirou agreed. In an instant Jirou was the chevalier to Atobe's princess, running awkwardly over the waves to take Atobe by the arm.

But they were underwater now, and Choutaroh had a mermaid's tail. Jirou stared in fascination. Where was Choutaroh's crotch? It was as though Choutaroh's human shape disappeared from the waist down. Shishido was also staring at Choutaroh with a skeptical frown on his face.

"Oh dear," Atobe chuckled. "That's going to be difficult."

The undersea palace was fast approaching and Jirou sighed. Walking around was always so tedious. That was why he usually slept through it, clinging to Kabaji's back. "I wanna get to the sex," Jirou said, and Atobe nodded. 

"It's your birthday, after all..."

In a wave of an elegant hand Jirou and Atobe were at the very top of the undersea castle, in a room full of floating furniture.

Atobe's dress was floating too, floating up to reveal strong, well-built legs and tastefully alluring underpants. But where was the bed?

"Oh no," Jirou said, floating to the ceiling. The bed appeared to be wedged into a corner of a high gothic arch.

"We don't need a bed," Atobe insisted, and Jirou felt a warm hand wrap around his ankle.

"We do...we do need a bed," Jirou protested. Of course they did. Life was nothing without beds. But the hand around his ankle moved upward, slowly, gently stroking over the tights. The tights felt so soft against his skin...

Sensation. The castle was breaking up into a cloud of air-bubbles, the bed dispersing into light. But a warm hand was still stroking Jirou's leg, rubbing the soft fabric into it. Leg, and then thigh.

"You do get tangled into your bedclothes, don't you?" Amused tone, a bit of a snort behind it. And then a hand on Jirou's crotch, smoothing up over his balls, over his partially-erect penis. 

Jirou opened one eye and saw a face close to his, back-lit by a halo of light. He'd forgotten to turn off the light again, it seemed.

"Hi, Keigo." Jirou's hips shifted, rose in a wiggle, and he saw Atobe's frown, undoubtedly because Jirou wasn't hard enough. Jirou settled more comfortably onto his back and opened the other eye, arms reaching out to pull Atobe close. Atobe resisted, sitting up instead.

"You looked nice in a dress," Jirou said drowsily. 

Atobe looked affronted. "I look nice in everything." Atobe kept up his finger motions, and Jirou felt himself climbing out of sleep more swiftly than usual.

"What's the ohhh...occasion?" Warm and soft and caressing, all over his penis. Getting harder...Jirou felt his breath move faster at the touch.

Atobe shook his head. "I keep track, you know." A strong rhythm now, and tingles and sparks shot out along Jirou's nerves, waking him up even further.

"Ahhhh...Keigo...you've got such an amazing technique..." Half-laugh, half-groan, and Jirou's body rocked in time to the tugs. But wait. "Keep track of...mmmh...what?"

Atobe leaned down and allowed Jirou to kiss his beauty mark. "Why was I wearing a dress?" Another slow tug, and all the soft skin collected around his penis tip, and then fell away, rubbing flannel all over the wet head. 

"A what?" Jirou gasped against Atobe's cheek.

Atobe's nose wrinkled. "You have morning breath at night. Ore-sama must rectify this sometime." And another extremely nice slither and constriction of skin and a swift downward tug of pajama pants, and Jirou groaned as he shot all over his stomach.

And then Jirou sat up, quite awake, huge grin on his face. "That was really good," Jirou said, and with an ecstatic wriggle like an overgrown puppy, bowled Atobe over and pinned him.

"Disgusting," Atobe groaned, pushing Jirou up far enough to tug the semen-wet shirt off his skin.

"I'll wash it," Jirou said promptly, and removed the damp garment. 

"You don't wash this sort of shirt, dolt, you dry--aaahhhh."

Jirou was already halfway down Atobe's body, tongue pushing into Atobe's belly button, swirling in circles and poking in hard. Jirou had discovered a little while ago that this generally turned Atobe into gasping, quivering mush. His hand tugged off Atobe's plaids, and Jirou's fingers slid eagerly down a thigh.

"Stop that at once," Atobe ordered, flinging an arm over his face. "It's embarrassing." But Jirou ignored the protests and kept up the molestation, pausing only to wet a finger in his mouth. 

Another moment later and Atobe's knees were up over Jirou's shoulder and Jirou's wet finger poked at a different hole entirely. "I don't get why that's embarrassing and this isn't," Jirou said with a frown. The spit just wouldn't do. "Hand me the--"

But a cold container was already bumping against the top of his head. "Because that's normal, and my belly button isn't remotely...nnnnnnhhhhh..." 

Jirou giggled. "Remotely normal?" More deep laps of tongue into Atobe's belly button, and Jirou's finger pushed up into Atobe's body. Jirou hummed a snatch of song as he pushed...what was it? Something from Disney's Little Mermaid. Each little snail here knows how to wail here...

"Ohtori had no penis," Jirou said abstractly, making the necessary preparations with his hands. "Shishido was annoyed."

"What?" Atobe's voice was halfway between a whine and a moan. Jirou understood that it probably hurt a bit -- that's why Atobe, the buchou, was doing the bottoming thing. He was tough enough for it.

After a long moment of concentrated pushing and widening and shoving and toying around up there Jirou took his fingers out. "I'm sticking it in!" Jirou said cheerfully, and clambered up on his hands and knees to stare down at Atobe.

Atobe wrinkled his nose again. "Just don't kiss me."

So of course Jirou leaned in and gave Atobe a deep, soft, wet, smelly kiss, and with a wriggle and a little shove, got his penis tip up into the tight ring of muscles.

Atobe's expression was soft like putty again. This worked even better than Atobe's belly button, Jirou gleefully discovered, and when the tightness eased enough for Jirou to work his hips back out, Atobe's fingers twined into the back of Jirou's head to keep their mouths where they were. Ahhh...tongue. Atobe tongue was soft and tasted just a little like caviar and bootleg red wine.

Atobe made no sound, not even when Jirou reached down and returned the wake-up favor. Instead, Jirou felt Atobe's concentration, felt Atobe's hips shift until Jirou was pushing up against something hard, and then Atobe's body began to tremble.

They started to move together, the first few thrusts tentative and mistimed, but Jirou experimented until they both slid together and suddenly time went liquid again. It was just like his dream -- lightness, filling Jirou's mind. He wasn't Jirou, nor was he Atobe, but together they were something else entirely. 

Ahhh...so good...

Dream castles, turrets sharp like music notes, wove back and forth in Jirou's mind's eye until Atobe took his hair and tugged it sharply.

"Stay -- awake." Sharp voice. Annoyed.

"Yes buchou." Sharp slap to Jirou's ass and Jirou was pushing again, shoving up into that hard spot until he could feel Atobe's fingers digging into his back and nigh-soundless panting in his ear.

The waves were all red and lurid and moist like the center of a fruit. Jirou moaned out something, tongue pushing down into Atobe's mouth, penis clenched by heat and wetness.

A few trembling moments later he pulled out just in time to come all over Atobe's balls.

"Jirou!" Atobe's voice was exasperated.

"I'm sorry. You just feel really -- really, really good," Jirou said sheepishly, wiping sweat away from his forehead. "I'll make it up to you."

Jirou dropped down to wipe the come away with his fingers before licking the slightly bitter skin of Atobe's balls. 

"That will be almost acceptable," Atobe said in a strangled tone. Jirou wriggled fingers up where his penis had been and slowly felt around. Ah -- there. Jirou stroked the spot carefully with his fingertips and worked his mouth over Atobe's erection. Up, down, up. Down, up, down. A boring but effective rhythm, and Atobe's body arched like a bow between his fingers and mouth.

Jirou was pondering that he hoped Atobe would come soon because he was getting sleepy when he felt the telltale throb of the vein under his tongue. He compressed with his mouth, gave his fingers another wiggle, and tried his best not to choke when Atobe shot.

"That was adequate," Atobe panted. And then his fingers twisted in Jirou's hair and Jirou jerked a little. Oops, he'd been falling asleep again.

"Ore-sama does not wish to have prune-skin when you fall asleep with your mouth around his cock...again."

Jirou climbed up Atobe's body again and settled into Atobe's side, stifling the giggles as best he could.

This time, Atobe kissed him.

"I can't believe your breath smells better now..." Atobe's voice was full of a wry affection, fingers still toying with Jirou's curls.

"Thank you for the birthday present."

"It was your birthday? Ore-sama thought we were celebrating his test results..."

Jirou would've kneed Atobe in the groin, but it took far too much effort to stir his limbs. So heavy...

A figure shimmered in the waves, beckoning.

But this time, when Jirou floated out of his body, he was met by nothing but the feeling of lightness.

"No dreams for you," Jirou heard Atobe whisper. And so it was. Jirou sank into the soft, restful darkness.

"Happy birthday..."


End file.
